Cimmerian
by Dove of Night
Summary: Kidnapped under the cloak of night, Kaoru swiftly finds herself in the midst of a power struggle she never knew existed, struggling to decide what's real and what isn't, and who she can trust. Battousai/Kaoru. A "remake" of sorts of Dark.


Hi there, ladies and gents. 'Tis Dove again. I was recently talking with a friend of mine, and realized to my surprise that he watches Rurouni Kenshin as well. Our discussion led me to remember the atrocity that was a fanfic I wrote during the summer I was...er...thirteen or fourteen. I linked him to it, and then realized I was quite embarrassed by how clearly juvenile it was... also, I had no constant Internet access while writing it thus most of my "facts" were totally made up (and, as a majority, totally wrong). So now, seven or so years later, I'm returning once more to retell the story of Battousai and Kaoru in a bit more...mature...manner. This story should stay at a T rating, but I can't swear by it. The title is a synonym for Dark, I felt it was fitting (also, a really cool word).

So, with that exceedingly long and pedantic author's note, allow me to introduce you to the first chapter of what I hope will become a fanfic that absorbs my life as much as Dark did all those years ago. If you'd like to read the original please feel free, but one – remember I was a very young kid writing it and two – this is, mostly, an entirely new story with the same beginning concept and perhaps a part or two adopted from the original since on occasion my early-teenage self was quite funny...

* * *

Cimmerian

Chapter One

_Some say the world will end in Fire,_

_Others say in Ice._

_From What I've tasted of Desire,_

_I hold with those who favour fire._

_--Robert Frost

* * *

  
_

The darkness no longer surprised him; it seemed every time he was sent on one of these missions, the moon went into hiding. Perhaps his superiors had control over that, as well... or perhaps he just saw everything as being much darker while he readied himself for murder. While the killing had become second nature to him, it never ceased to make his stomach turn and his heart ache.

_It's for a purpose, it's for our cause_.

Repeating the phrase, his mantra, to himself he paused beneath a street lamp that was beginning to flicker out, and gazed ahead at the mansion. It was lit up, almost every room spilling pale yellow light onto the street before him. What a waste. Must be nice to have so much money that it was possible to throw out the equivalent of a week's worth of food for a family of four on the monthly bill for lighting rooms nobody was using.

Golden eyes slid from window to window, examining each, observing any movement in each room as he tallied visible threats and targets. A quick burst of breath blew blood red bangs from amber eyes and he strode forward, melting back into the shadows, a black-cloaked wraith in the night. No one witnessed his passing, tonight was chilly, it found no young lovers strolling along holding hands... no collateral damage this time.

_It's for a purpose, it's for our cause.

* * *

_

"Must you be so loud?" She snapped as she yanked a brush through long black hair, sitting primly on her bed. The men, startled by the high voice chiding them all looked up from their card game. Bawdy laughter faded into chagrined silence.

"Sorry Miss Kamiya, we'll try to be more ..." the man paused, struggling to find the right word.

"Considerate," the blonde to his left supplied with a grin, "Check."

The game resumed and Kaoru rolled pale blue eyes as she turned back to her movie, reaching one hand to turn the volume up as her other struggled to yank the brush through her hair. Generally she was careful with her long locks but tonight the tangles and her situation had infuriated her. As Brendan Fraser screamed and shot at mummies she finished yanking the brush through her hair and began to braid it, ignoring the snapped strands that fluttered about, just forcing it into something tame and letting it lie down her back.

The aching pain in her scalp from her little temper tantrum helped. Despite having damaged her hair she felt better, and ran her fingers over the braid as she gazed at the screen, able to ignore the men behind her now.

This was her father's doing. _I've been threatened, Kaoru. My life would be worthless without _you_ my sweet, so I have to have you guarded until they catch the person who threatened us_. She loathed it. Just because he was a government official, she had to put up with this nonsense? Besides, he'd never asked _her_ if she wanted him to go out and get a dangerous job. Maybe she didn't want a famous father. Maybe she just wanted him to be around now and then.

Frustration had bred depressing thoughts. Realizing she was in a crabby, moody, tailspin she shook her head abruptly – which caused her braid to smack her in her face... this was not her night – and tried to shake the sulky thoughts away. Her father was protecting her as best he could, he helped people all the time and bad men didn't like that... and it wasn't a huge sacrifice to live in a massive mansion and have anything she wanted.

Feeling better now that she'd stopped thinking like a spoiled brat she returned her gaze to the screen. But something distracted her. At first it was barely noticeable over the shriek of her television... but after a few moments she heard it again and her head raised in surprise, turning to look at the door. What was that?

It came again.

A scream. That was definitely a scream.

Her guards heard it that time as well and the cards dropped as they all stood, guns sliding out of their holsters. "Miss Kamiya, go--"

Something strange cut off the command. A blade burst through the door once at a diagonal to the left, and then again at a diagonal to the right. The door itself exploded inward and a black-clothed man entered, strolling in as though it were completely normal to be carrying a samurai sword, spattered head to toe in blood. Not a hair out of place in that high ponytail – the bastard didn't even seem to be breathing hard.

Kaoru found her breath caught in her throat as the golden-eyed creature paused just inside the room, eyes sliding over each man and then _her_. O-oh. Wow. He radiated energy; a pacing, caged, energy... a Jaguar just on the other side of the saran wrap barrier.

"You have two options." Caught up in her metaphor, Kaoru was confused for a moment before realizing from whom the voice had come. "You release the girl to me, or you all die. I'm fine with either option, but I think option one would be less of a pain in the ass." His tone was flat. He could have said _Hi there, I'm here to mow the lawn_ for all the emotion he offered.

"Oh, right, you're gonna menace us with a friggin sword?" The man who'd begun to apologize earlier sneered, sliding his Beretta 93R from its holster with ease, one brow raised. It was an older gun, Kaoru had asked about it and was told the last ones of its kind had been made in the 1990s, this one of the later models, he'd inherited it from a friend and it was his sidearm of choice. He cocked the gun and settled into his two-handed hold. "I don't think so."

The man sighed, "I had really hoped you wouldn't press the matter." He murmured, very softly. The other guards were pulling more standard-issue Glocks.

The man with the sword quite simply disappeared. Kaoru's head jerked as shots began to fire, trying to figure out what trick of the eye this had been. She saw a flash of red... a flash... a-- blood... silver... none of the shots seemed to hit home and her guards fell one by one. The one with the fancy gun was the second to go down, his blonde friend the next. Quite suddenly there were eight men on the floor in varying states of fatality, and she was sitting alone on her bed as frightening eyes turned to her, blood sliding down that pale face.

"Miss Kamiya." His voice was still very soft, almost gentle. Eerie. "I'd like you to not put up a fight. I am not here to kill you, or even harm you. I wish your guards and stepped down so you didn't have to see me spill their blood." He held one hand out, "Please come with me."

Was he joking?

Her jaw slackened as she stared at his hand and then her eyes lifted to his earnestly calm face. Fire met ice and time hesitated for just a heartbeat. Then Kaoru felt her head shake slowly right to left, and she was moving in a sudden explosion, thundering to the door across from her bed and shoving through, a scream tearing from her throat as she slid on a puddle of blood from a man sprawled in the hallway, slipping on her bare feet and smacking into a decorative table. She heard the vase fall and shatter as she struggled to catch her footing, using the table to balance, and felt sharp pains in her calves and shins. Ignoring them, hearing footsteps behind her, she tore off down the hall once more, unsteady on blood-covered feet but desperate.

She wanted her father, but he was out at a political meeting of some sort, not there to save her. The girl thundered into the small dojo at the end of the hall and scrambled to the familiar bokkens on the rack, snatching her favourite up and whirling to face her adversary, squaring her shoulders, setting her feet, bending her knees.

The man actually had the gall to quirk a brow. "Really?"

What did he mean _really_? It may not have been a metal sword but her father had taught her well! Feeling indignation bubble up the words exploded from her mouth, "What the hell do you mean _really_? You aren't the only one who can handle a sword buddy!"

Now he just looked amused, which pissed her off all the more. "Oh, I apologize Miss Kamiya." He strode forward. Mid-step, he vanished and Kaoru jerked back a step, raising her Bokken as she whirled, seeking him, knowing his impossible speed would probably be an issue. Just a bit.

Her reaction was sudden enough that when his sword came down, it met with the resistance of heavy, thick wood. However, even as Kaoru was jerking her head to face him, he was gone, and something cracked across the back of her skull.

She gasped, and stumbled forward, the bokken falling from suddenly numb hands as she hit her knees and tried to relearn how to breathe, pain bringing tears to her eyes. She heard the sound of a blade being sheathed and felt hands on her ankles yank her legs out from underneath her, putting her on her chin. Then legs straddled her hips and a hand tucked under her chin to pull her head back, a wet cloth pressing to her mouth.

"I didn't want to have to hurt you, Miss Kamiya." His voice was distant. Kaoru struggled, trying desperately not to breathe, but her panic had left her without oxygen and she was quickly inhaling the sickly sweet liquid that had soaked the cloth. Nausea rolled through her gut as she gave a few more weak kicks and felt dizziness swell up and overwhelm her, turning the world black.

* * *

As he opened the door to his house, Battousai felt the creature over his shoulder beginning to wake. He rolled his arm to slid her from her perch and tossed her to the right as he walked into his living room... only half wanting her to actually hit the couch. She _had_ made him run earlier, after all. He hated when they made him chase them.

Of course, usually the chase ended in a kill, so perhaps he was just cranky because his orders had been to kidnap and not harm, maim, cripple or kill. Really they'd severely limited his ability to do his job.

The phone rang as the creature in a heap on the couch began to stir and fuss. Battousai kicked a trash can next to the couch and went to snatch up the land line, "Yes?"

"I trust everything went well?" they always seemed to know when he came in the door, always calling moments later.

"Yes," He paused at the sound of retching, "It went fine. The girl is... mostly... unharmed and there are some casualties at the mansion. Sir, why didn't you send Sanosuke on this mission? This is more his style."

"Your finesse was needed." The voice on the other end replied very quietly. "You will bring the girl to meet The Artist tomorrow at seven-thirty, understood?"

"Yes, sir." Battousai hung the phone up and went back into his living room, eying the girl disdainfully for a moment. She had finished throwing up, into the trashcan as he'd hoped – that area rug was direct from Persia, handmade, and damned expensive – and now looked very pale. Her eyes were darting in as many different directions as she could manage, seeking some sort of escape. Battousai watched her for a long moment and then strode to a large chair across from the couch, sitting and pulling his swords free of his waistband to begin cleaning and sharpening the blades properly.

The girl watched him in complete silence, and just as he began to wonder at how well she was taking this, she spoke. "The blade is on the wrong side."

"Yes." Battousai didn't look up, running a cloth over his Sakabatou gently.

"Why?"

He glanced up in surprise. Those alive long enough to ask that question, never had. After a long moment of silence he raised one corner of his mouth in an imitation of a half-smile and murmured, "I killed someone once, that I didn't mean to kill. Now it cannot happen again."

The Kamiya girl was watching him still, lips pressed into a thin line, eying his face almost suspiciously as if presuming that story was a lie and trying to read the truth. He gave her nothing, impassive as he gazed at her. She broke first, eyes dropping.

"How are you feeling?"

* * *

How was she feeling? Agitated, frustrated, frightened, nauseated, uncertain... "Sick." She blurted finally.

"That's a side effect of the chloroform."

Some tiny writer part of her squealed very slightly. She had always wondered what it was like to be chloroformed... and while the circumstances _sucked_, the experience was now something she'd be able to use in stories. If, of course, she ever actually got to write again.

"What are you going to do with me?"

He didn't look up now, running a whet stone over the edge of his blade, "I don't know," He answered after a long pause, "We will meet my boss, and see. You're hurt, the bathroom is down the hall on the left, clean yourself up. When you're done, if you go on down the hall the room at the end is prepared for you." He glanced up, "The windows are reinforced, do not open, and will not be broken. The only way to leave this house is through that front door and it's solid steel. Only way you open that is with the code. You remain agreeable, and I don't make this stay _hell_ for you. Is that understood?"

"I make your life hell, you do the same to mine. Got you." Kaoru mumbled, feeling her eyes being drawn back to his striking eyes time and again.

"Good girl. Go on." He didn't meet her inquisitive gaze. After a few moments she stood and left, heading to the bathroom where she cleaned the cuts from the vase, took a shower to get the blood off – it was in her _hair_, ew, ew, ew – and stole his robe, not wanting to sleep in bloodied clothing.

When she was done she paused in the hallway, able to hear him still babying those weapons.

"What's your name?"

"You may call me Battousai." His response was prompt, "That's all the name you need for me. Go to bed."

Muttering that she'd planned to do _that_ anyways, Kaoru ducked into the room he'd promised her and crawled into bed.

Lying on her back and staring at the ceiling, she took stock of the situation. She was still alive. Her captor was ice cold, but he wasn't overly vicious and didn't seem to be entirely cruel. Just... antisocial. So really, maybe, this would be a workable situation. She wasn't even really hurt, which was helpful, it was hard to run away when one had a broken leg. Hell, she hadn't even been tied up, gagged, and blindfolded. Although she suspected if she tried to run away, that situation would alter quickly.

Exhausted now, she closed her eyes and rolled onto her side, relieved when sleep overtook her. She still had the nauseas after-effects of the chloroform, and while it was nice to know what such a thing felt like, it _sucked_ in practice.

* * *

The front door opened as Battousai was sliding his swords into place on the rack. Two brunettes entered; a young boy and a much larger and older boy. Both still younger than the red-head standing across the room.

"Hey, Kenshin." the taller one spoke first, grinning, "How'd it go?"

He rolled his eyes, "I achieved my end, Sanosuke."

The tall man smacked his back with a firm, brotherly thump. "You don't have to be so guarded man. You got the girl? Was it hard?"

"Of course it wasn't!" Battousai frowned at him and reached to rub his back absently as he pulled off his outer layer, folding the black clothing neatly, wearing loose white sweatpants and a faded red shirt beneath.

"Too bad, was hoping the little lady gave you a fight." Sanosuke snorted.

"Sano got in a fight." The smaller one commented.

"Ya_HI_ko!" Sanosuke snapped.

"You _did?_ Dammit, Sanosuke, how many times do I have to -"

"I didn't kill the guy, Kenshin, I just roughed him up a little in an alley. He was getting a little fresh with Megumi."

"And I'm sure she _really_ appreciated that."

The brute winced, "Well, not so much."

"She slapped him." Yahiko provided cheerfully.

Battousai rolled his fiery eyes, "I'm tired, it's been a long night. The both of you to bed." He jerked a thumb over his shoulder.

"What'dya think we are, kids?" Sanosuke demanded. But his complaints held no power, as he took one look at Battousai's face and strode off to his room with Yahiko hot on his heels.

The red-haired man ruled the house. Most of the men who worked for Battousai's boss were the swordfighter's underlings and when he said jump they gave it a shot and hoped they were going high enough. He ruled with an iron fist, and while he was very tolerant of Sanosuke's antics as they'd been friends for many years, he still expected complete obedience from his subordinates. Especially those he welcomed into his own home.

Battousai stood for a moment alone in the living room, gaze flickering between the three doors that contained his current guests. After a moment he checked to be sure the front door was closed, and strode to his own room, ready to sleep after the work earlier that night. Kamiya had been the easiest part of it, those damn guards kept getting less and less inept as time passed. Eventually someone might even teach them how to use those guns they kept waving at him.

As he dozed off the terrifying thought struck him – he'd have to entertain his prisoner all day. Damn. Maybe Sanosuke would be willing to do it for him. Battousai was a man who stepped in, killed, and left. A shadow assassin. He didn't _like_ people. Especially not _women_. Whiny creatures, the whole lot of them. Perhaps he'd just chloroform her all day? Now _that_ sounded like a viable plan.

Another thought drifted through his sleepy mind as he sank into unconsciousness... what part of killing a large amount of men before snatching a girl screamed _finesse_? How strange... maybe the just knew Sanosuke would probably get caught up in fighting off the men and forget what he was supposed to do and get himself caught. Wouldn't be the _first_ time.

He heard a door open and it jerked him – quite to his annoyance – from that almost-asleep reverie. He listened raptly, lying still in bed, as little feet padded down the hallway. They paused in front of his door, which marked the end of the hall. Then darted across the living room to the front door. He heard her try the handle, and then halfheartedly punch a few numbers in and try again. He heard the soft sigh, and was surprised when she simply gave up, turning and heading back into the hall. Battousai listened as she stopped to use the bathroom and then get a drink from the sink, and when her door closed once more he settled down, finally dozing off, a vision of crystalline ice-blue eyes ghosting through his mind. Perhaps this wouldn't be too bad.


End file.
